Nothing Tra La La
by MayzyGreen
Summary: Danika has no ability to concentrate and so, rather than work on one of her numerous other stories which are dying to be finished, she started another one. Feel free to yell at her. Oh yeah, JxS Oh my gosh, it's finished! FINALLY
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Labyrinth. If I did, I would sue myself for plagiarism.

**Warning:** My intent in this story is to poke gentle fun at the general trend of Labyrinth fanfiction. This includes my own stories. I do not intend to offend anyone. If you see hints of your story in this, consider it a compliment. I would not have read it and thought about it enough to get it lodged in my head and come out like this, if it hadn't been a good story in the first place. Does that make any sense? No? Damn.

Also, please be aware that this will be a Sarah/Jareth fic (if a really weird one) and that this is just my crazy little prologue... thing...

Nothing Tra La La

Danika Lareyna

Prologue

A beautiful and charming young woman sat primly at her desk, diligently typing away. Her shiny brown hair fell in perfect curls to her shoulders and the long, graceful fingers which flew over the keyboard ended in elegant, French-manicured nails. She wore only the finest top of the line, high fashion apparel; the kind that could be sold off to feed a third-world country or two. She had a waistline of which even Kate Moss would have been jealous.

She was busily working on a brilliant new story. It was a fanfiction for the movie Labyrinth. It was enchanting and heartwarming, dazzlingly original and fabulously well-written. In fact, the moment the Jim Henson Company (or whatever) saw this story, they were certain to adopt it as the new official sequel to Labyrinth and dump that cruddy comic book on its proverbial ear.

All that her masterpiece needed was a title. Pouting her full, ruby-red lips, the young woman considered her options. It was clear to her that she needed to use a line from the movie. After all, no one had ever done that before. She briefly contemplated using lyrics from one of the songs as her title, but discarded that thought. No one liked David Bowie's music anyway. At last, it struck her. A title which would immediately draw the attention of the masses. A title which described everything she wanted to say in her 759 page manuscript with four little words (three, if you didn't count repeats).

With a little flourish, she typed the words, "Nothing Tra La La" and...

...she woke up.

It was the crack of three pm. Danika rolled out of bed, muttering to herself groggily. The all-night shift in the hospital ER, where she registered patients and did mountains upon mountains of meaningless paperwork, tended to leave her disoriented and more than a little cranky. Usually she was just a little cranky.

Mumbling, "Nothing Tra La La..." under her breath, Danika threw herself into a recliner. Her hair was still a writhing mass of bed-head and her nails were sheared nearly to the quick for ease of typing. She wore a heavy blue sweatshirt with a faded snowflake pattern (because it was _damn_ cold in Montana), and the scrub bottoms she had been too tired to take off after work. In a vague attempt to cheer herself up, she decided to start work on another fanfiction. She consoled herself that if 50 was the new 40 and 40 was the new 30, then she was just entering her teens and so it was perfectly normal for her to be obsessed with a children's movie.

Pulling her laptop into her lap (because she had long ago discovered that it was so named for a reason, after it had not worked particularly well balanced atop her head), she hit the power and drooled a little over her David Bowie background. Putting her fingers to the keyboard, Danika was immediately struck with inspiration. She did not have the slightest clue what the plot would be or any of those petty details, but she knew what she would call the thing. The rest would come sooner or later, she was certain.

With a little flourish, she typed the words, "Nothing Tra La La" and...

...somewhere, an incredibly sexy Fae monarch cursed her name. He glared at the woman through a crystal as she paused to scratch herself uncouthly. He had had quite enough of this woman. She constantly depicted him as a ridiculous buffoon and put his character into highly compromising situations. He swore to himself that if she wrote one more nonsensical piece of rubbish, she would greatly regret it.

His gorgeous, mismatched eyes narrowed as her fingers returned to the keys.

xXx

Tune in tomorrow, same uh... Goblin King time, same Goblin King place (that sounded so stupid) for the next installment of Nothing Tra La La.

Unless I don't get any reviews, in which case I will pout and probably lose interest. Maybe throw a temper tantrum. You have been warned.


	2. Jareth Comes to a Decision

Disclaimer: I own a jar of Jiffy peanut butter, but not the brand itself.

**Anij**: Just keep in mind that if he does 'get me', there shall be no more updates ever again on any of my stories. Is it _really_ worth the show?

**FairiesMidwife**: Darn, do you really think so? I had thought it was just funny enough... but if you truly believe that it is too funny, I shall try to tune it down a bit.

**Nation Jones**: You know what? You people sicken me. What is it about watching someone being mercilessly tortured by the Goblin King which turns you on so much? Seriously, get some help.

**GitaMerah**: Wait no more!

**notwritten**: Eloquently put as always. Though, I have to say, you may be the most insanely loquacious person ever. Really, someone as pretty as you is meant to be seen, not heard.

**MossyTea**: I aim only to please. You may get back to your boring, dreary and all-around unsatisfying life now.

**turtlerad17**: And you look to be a very intelligent young... turtle. Practically prophetic, in fact.

**InuLvr7**: Much as I appreciate the offer, is it really wise to announce your familiarity with flames right out like that?

**tonemara**: It makes the unspeakable, horrendous torture he would inflict upon me there almost seem worth it, doesn't it?

**MartiOwlsten**: Little slow on the uptake, aren't we? But I fear that my crimes warrant far, far worse than the bog. Oh the potential horrors of it all! Alas!

**Contraltissimo**: You will be happy to know that parodic is indeed a word. Shenaniganry, on the other hand, is most definitely not.

Nothing Tra La La

Danika Lareyna

Chapter One

Jareth Comes to a Decision

Danika stared at the screen, blank save for the title of her newest masterpiece, for approximately 28 minutes. Then she got up and went to the bathroom. Then she sat back down and stared at it for another 17 minutes. Then she decided she might as well get around to writing the damned thing...

xXx

Jareth sat in his throne room. He sat on his throne. There were two reasons for this. First, he was the Goblin King and so his royal posterior deserved no less than a throne beneath it. Second, it was the only place in the throne room (and the whole castle, for that matter) which was not covered in gibbering goblins, abused animals or non-alliterative excrement. Even in his own head, Jareth never used any term other than 'excrement'. All other words sent the blithering idiots that were his subjects into gales of childish laughter, which sometimes took as much as a week to silence. Unfortunately, after 24,963 years, one of the smarter goblins had figured out what 'feces' meant and blabbed to the rest of the horde.

The Goblin King was not his usual perky self that day. Nor was he his usual cruel self. Both sides of his dramatically split personality were feeling rather low. Never, in all of his 7 trillion years of life, had he felt this way. He could not understand what was the matter with him and it irked him greatly. Little did he know that he was actually madly in love with Sarah, the girl who had defeated his Labyrinth, and the uncomfortable feeling in his chest was his soul pining for her and not heartburn. He had hoped that it would go away, but as time passed, it only got worse. In fact, exactly three years, four months and twelve days had passed, meaning that, somewhere, it was Sarah's 18th birthday (because it did not matter that he was 7 trillion years older than her, as long as she was legally of age in the United States).

Having discovered that kicking goblins did nothing to cheer him up, Jareth tried other methods. He hung goblins from their ears from the tallest tower of the castle, lit their toes on fire and watched to see how long it took for the pain to reach their brain (the average time was 23 minutes and 52 seconds), covered them in Jiffy peanut butter and threw them into a pit of starving squirrels (one such goblin has now mastered the legendary Squirrel-Fu style of martial arts- the rest just had their skin eaten), and even judged a rousing game of 'Which Cupcake is the Dynamite in?' (in which ten different goblins get to pick a cupcake and the loser is the one whose vital organs get splattered on the castle wall).

Nothing helped. He was as depressed as ever.

Then, Jareth came to a startling conclusion. He hated his job. He hated the goblins. He hated wearing tight pants. Ok, that was going too far. He loved wearing tight pants, but he did not have to be the Goblin King to do that. It was all pointless and unsatisfying anyway. He was getting on in years, after all. He might only have another 600-700 trillion years left. Jareth wanted to do something _meaningful_ with that precious time.

It seemed to him that he needed a change of scenery. The Aboveground was a pretty happening place. Maybe he could use his fantastic and near-omnipotent sparkly magic to enslave the human race. Or maybe he would start a home for abandoned kittens. Either way, he would be closer to Sarah. Not that he cared, because he had not yet realized that he was madly in love with her. It just seemed like an interesting side point.

And so, Jareth set about making plans. First he packed all of his precious tight pants into a giant suitcase. He did not have room for any underwear, but that did not bother him too much. Then he carefully arranged all of his eye make-up and lip glosses and whatnot into his special goblin-hide accessory case. Finally, he bought four cans of super-duper-extra-large-jumbo-ultra-monster-mega-uber-really-really-really-really-really-big hair spray, just in case.

Then he remembered that he could make all of that stuff out of his sparkly magic, so he sprayed the hairspray over everything and set it on fire, just to watch it burn. It was quite a show.

The next day there was a note pinned to the cushion of the Goblin King's throne. It said:

_Dear Moronic Imbeciles,_

_You disgust me. I quit. I hereby pronounce that that one chicken with the large black splotch on his left wing is king, as I am sure he will be a much more competent ruler than any of you. I have run away to the Aboveground where none of you can ever annoy me again. Ha ha ha ha ha._

_Lots of love,_

_Jareth_

Of course the goblins were not too upset about the whole incident. None of them could read anyway.

xXx

**Shameless Self-Promotion**

Hey! Go check out my Labyrinth fanart on Deviant Art!

http://danikamorningstar(dot)deviantart(dot)com

Next chapter tomorrow!


	3. Sarah has a Bad Day

**Nation Jones**: I'm afraid the SDELJUMMURRRRRB Hairspray is only available at a specialty store Underground. You have to be a member to shop there. I would be glad to send you an application for membership, but you should know that you must be of noble descent and the leader of a horde of mindless, slobbering idiots to qualify. …they're a bit elitist.

**Anij**: Back when Jareth was in the third grade, he was required to make one of those silly little projects they create solely to keep annoying children occupied. It involved tracing his shadow and then filling it with descriptions of himself. One of the things he had to do was list five words which described him. Most of the other children had words like 'happy', 'fun', 'smart' and 'pie'. Jareth's top two were 'maniacal' and 'delusional'. The teacher sent a note home to Jareth's mother.

**KnightofWolfLord**: It is a pity that you need the five minutes to read this story? I am hurt. I weep. And blow my nose messily.

**turtlerad17**: I am, indeed, a fan of Ranma! A gold star to you for getting that joke.

**MartiOwlsten**: It is my job to mock you. How many times have we gone over this? It is my intent to mock any and everyone. Deal with it. Oh, and going conservative this time, are you? Hmm… we shall see, we shall see…

**notwritten**: You are ever the riddle wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a warm, flaky crust.

**orientalbunny**: You should make that your new motto. Whenever life is getting you down, just raise up your chin and shout to the world, "Yay for tightpants and flammable hairspray!" ...And then laugh maniacally.

**SuicidalAphrodite**: Goblins don't die. They just fade away. ...or blow up, occasionally.

Disclaimer: I do not own Cosmopolitan magazine or Botox (thank goodness).

Nothing Tra La La

Danika Lareyna

Chapter Two

Sarah has a Bad Day

Danika chortled to herself wickedly. Judging from the reviews, her attempts to brainwash the entire world (starting with fans of the movie Labyrinth) were coming along beautifully. Little did the fools know that by reading her mostly inane and mindless stories, they were slowly becoming stupider and stupider. Someday, she would be surrounded by naught but bumbling morons and then she would pronounce herself queen of all! Yes... any day now...

xXx

It was the day after Sarah's 18th birthday and she was feeling particularly mature and capable of dealing with a long-term relationship. Not that she cared, because she had yet to realize that she was madly in love with Jareth. Honestly, she was still rather stuck at the 'scared spitless of him' stage. But none of that mattered anyway, because he was in the Underground and she would never have to see him again. Cue ironic and slightly ominous music.

Sarah was feeling very cheerful because her very best friend in the whole wide world, Fifi, was coming over to visit. She was busily locking her little brother Toby in the cupboard beneath the kitchen sink (so that he would not disturb them) and ordering Karen to clean the house. Karen had weakly protested that perhaps Sarah should at least drill some holes in the cupboard doors so her brother could breath, but Sarah had replied, "See? I knew you always liked him better! You're wicked and terrible and I hate you! Now get back to shining the floorboards with Daddy's toothbrush!"

Happily, when Fifi arrived, the house was sparkling clean (and Karen had been safely locked in the linen closet). The two teens sat in the livingroom, happily chatting and munching on pizza with pepperoni, pineapple and extra anchovies and drinking chocolate milkshakes. Fortunately, Sarah was able to eat just about anything and never gain an ounce. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth (except that one time when she was offered her dreams), she did just that. Sarah ate anything and everything. Once she had won a hot-dog eating contest that pitted her against the entire Long-Haul Truckers of America Society. As she finished off her second extra-large pizza, she hoped that this ability was a side-effect of her magical journey through the Labyrinth and not a tapeworm, but she did not worry about it too much.

"So, like, did you have a good birthday and stuff?" Fifi asked, tossing a strand of her long, vibrant red hair over her shoulder. As she watched Sarah, her bright, amethyst eyes sparkled and the light glittered on her perfectly straight, white teeth. With a little sigh, Fifi wished that she could be as pretty as Sarah. But then, all girls did.

"It was ok," Sarah replied. "I got a couple of DVDs, some new clothes, a lifetime subscription to Cosmopolitan magazine, a pony and a new car. Of course Karen was constantly ragging on me about 'driving safe' and 'feeding the pony'. You know how she is." Fifi nodded sympathetically and there was a soft, mysterious thud from the general direction of the linen closet.

"Oh my gosh!" Fifi exclaimed, reaching for the remote control. "I, like, totally forgot! Today they're going to be interviewing that drop-dead hunkalicious new rock star on TV. We, like, totally have to watch!" With that, she flipped on the jumbo wide-screen TV that Sarah had gotten as a reward for getting a C+ on her science report. At the same moment, Sarah felt a mysterious, ominous and slightly titillating tingle run up her spine.

As it happened, the television switched on to exactly the right channel at exactly the right time for the interview Fifi had been talking about. A woman with spiked, green hair, a nose piercing and signs of too much Botox appeared on screen. "And now," she said, in an annoying, nasally voice, "I have the pleasure of speaking with the brilliant new star who's hit single, 'Nothing Tra La La', has skyrocketed to the top of the charts, literally overnight. Here he is ladies and... oh, who am I kidding? Here he is ladies and more ladies, Jareth of Jareth and the Sunshine Muffins!"

The camera panned over. Sarah screamed and, just for good measure, fainted.

xXx

**Shameless Self-Promotion**

Hey! If you are enjoying this story then please check out my others!

Well? What are you waiting for? Go read my other flippin' stories!!


	4. Jareth Makes his Television Debut

Disclaimer: I do not own Cher or HeadOn headache medicine.

**Anij**: Darling, because I adore you, I will let you in on the secret to writing comedy. Are you ready? You might want to take notes. Can you handle it? Ok… here it goes… The key to writing comedy is that you must be _insane_. Alright, there you have it. Go, go and practice what I have taught you.

**turtlerad17**: Oh no, you see, Jareth was not dropped on his head as a child. I was. It makes writing comedy much easier (see **Anij**'s review response for an explanation).

**Nation Jones**: What do you have against sunshine and muffins? One is warm and the other is delicious! And, if you're really lucky, you might even get a muffin that is both warm _and_ delicious. Voila, a sunshine muffin.

**bobmcbobbob1**: Thank you, I shall. PS- Is there a bobmcbobbob2? If so, I find that frightening.

**Shelli**: Excellent, excellent… I must say, in all modesty, that I _do_ have the best evil plots. Really, you all should worship me solely for my amazing evil plots. And as for the Fierys… Well let's just say I've got my old friend Betsy, the weed-whacker.

**FairiesMidwife**: Erm… Um… I made your evening by causing you to urinate on yourself? You, my dear, have a very strange sense of fun. Also, please do not touch me until you change garments.

**notwritten**: Immediately upon receiving your review I had to call Marti and brag that I had finally gotten more than two words from you. It was the happiest moment of my young life. Sniffle.

**Loviatar**: You have offended me horrendously. I am _not_ terribly ridiculous. I am _wonderfully_ ridiculous. Also, if you had paid close attention at the beginning of the chapter, you would have found that making your brain explode is exactly my intention. Mwa ha and ha!

**orientalbunny**: My theory is that the twisted mind comes from working for two years at McDonalds. That's enough to drive anyone bonkers. Or perhaps **turtlerad17** had it right and it is because I was dropped on my head as a baby.

**KnightofWolfLord**: You are clearly mad. I am thrilled. Proof that my evil plan is going exactly according to… plan.

**MartiOwlsten**: 'Hunkalicious' comes directly from my adoration of Sailor Moon, back in the day. Ah, the horrible, horrible dub. Such memories. And what do you have against Sarah's pizza? That's what _I_ would order, were I to order a pizza.

**Nothing Tra La La**

Danika Lareyna

Chapter Three

_Jareth Makes his Television Debut_

"_Whatever you're scratching at- stop it!_" Danika shrieked at the top of her lungs. She had abandoned her favorite chair at home and was shlumped on the couch at her father's house. Her father and stepmother were out of town for the weekend and she had come over to keep the dog company. There were also four Siamese cats in attendance, but she tried to ignore them. They belonged to her stepmother and, while the woman herself was disappointingly non-evil, the cats were downright wicked. It was at one of the four beasties she had just screamed before turning back to her trusty laptop...

xXx

When Sarah had recovered from her screaming and her fainting, she sat up. Fifi patted her shoulder consolingly. "Like, it's ok, Sarah," the red-head said, "I reacted the same way the first time I saw him, too. But don't worry, you didn't miss anything. At the exact same moment you blacked out, they went to a commercial. And look! Right when you woke up they started the interview again. Aren't you, like, super lucky?"

Sarah said nothing as she stared at the television. It was a coincidence, she told herself. It had to be. Sure, his name was Jareth. Sure, he looked exactly like the Goblin King. Sure he had those unique eyes and that same cocky attitude. Sure, the title of his number one hit song was the same as something he had said to her in the Labyrinth (not that she had memorized his every word and gesture; nor did she relive every moment she spent in his presence in her dreams, of course). Still, it all had to be one, big, silly coincidence.

Completely reassured, Sarah sat back to watch the interview.

"Welcome to the show, Jareth," the hostess said. "I... uh... I'm sorry, but my information doesn't seem to have your last name. Is it just Jareth? Like Cher?"

Jareth smiled charmingly and crossed his legs, showing off his tight pants. "No, actually. It's Jareth Thegoblinking." At the hostesses strange look, Jareth said, "Erm... it's European." She brightened immediately; Sarah paled.

"So tell me about your hit single, 'Nothing Tra La La'. What inspired you to write it? Is it autobiographical?"

The ex-Goblin King flipped his wild blond locks over his shoulder and replied, "It's about a man who offers a woman her dreams but she turns her nose up at him. She leaves him bitter and heartbroken. Of course it is not autobiographical. The idea came to me while I was taking a bubble-bath the other day." He chuckled, giving the hostess a wink. The sad thing was, Jareth was entirely serious. Of course he was really inspired by his deep and almost pathetic love of Sarah, but he had not realized that he loved her yet, so it was all subconscious and psychological-like.

"Fascinating," the hostess said, after she had recovered from being winked at by Jareth (it took a while). "And what about the name of your band? Jareth and the Sunshine Muffins; there is really nothing like it."

"Nothing?" Jareth said, "Nothing, Tra La La?" He smirked at his own joke, though the hostess only looked mildly uncomfortable. "Well originally we were going to call ourselves Jareth and the Goblins, but I nixed that idea. Why would anyone want to name themselves after goblins? Then we were going to go with Jareth and the Cockroaches from Pluto, but that seemed a tad cliché. So finally we settled on Jareth and the Sunshine Muffins. I like sunshine and I like muffins." He leaned towards the hostess and his voice dropped an octave. With his eyes on her, he said, "And, as you know, my name is Jareth. So there you have it. Jareth and the Sunshine Muffins."

The hostess seemed to have lost all ability for rational thought, completely understandable with Jareth looking at her like that. She stammered a bit and drooled a bit before some wise person behind the scenes decided to cut them to a commercial. As the image switched from Jareth's smirk to that really annoying HeadOn headache medicine commercial, Sarah threw the coffee table at the television.

Fifi blinked at her, "Geez Sarah. I know that commercial is, like, totally annoying and everything, but don't you think that was a little overboard?"

"I am going to _kill_ Jareth Thegoblinking!" Sarah screeched. Fifi wanted to point out that she thought that there was supposed to be more of an accent on the second i, but she was too busy cowering behind the grandfather clock, fearing for her life in the presence of the dreaded Scary-Sarah.

xXx

**Shameless Self-Promotion**

Hey! Want me to update one of my other stories? Tell me in a review!

_Final Quick Note:_

Well, my darlings (and future minions), I must say that I am terribly impressed with you all. While the hits for Nothing Tra La La have been downright depressing (for which I blame the season. Is all of that 'being with family' and 'spreading good cheer' _really_ more important that keeping up with your Labyfics?) the proportion of reviews to hits has been better than any story I have previously written. Keep it up and I _may_ even be able to maintain interest in this story long enough to (gasp!) _finish_ it!


	5. Sarah has a VERY Bad Day

Disclaimer: I do not own David Bowie. Now excuse me while I wander away to weep in solitude.

**FairiesMidwife**: There will be _no_ touching of the royal personage! You may, however, worship me from afar.

**Anij**: Coffee tables are the bane of my existence. Those and lampshades. …long story.

**KnigtofWolfLord**: You may keep Michigan and Virginia (sort of an odd spread there). That is… until you too fall spell to my mind numberingness. Then you and all you possess shall be mine. MINE!! So… try not to mess it up in the meantime, kay?

**Shelli**: There is a lovely bit with Jareth and a bubble bath in The Goblin King & I (see **Shameless Other-Person-Promotion** for details). No chocolate though. More's the pity. I would never use Betsy on Jareth. For Jareth I save ol' Matilda, the tazer. Effective, and it doesn't mess up that pretty face. What more can a girl ask for?

**Nation Jones**: Yes, yes. Everyone admires my insanity. The scorning and the mocking? The jeering and the throwing of nasty objects in my general direction? Jealousy, I tell you. Pure jealousy.

**notwritten**: Wow, so there's an actual ranking of your ratings? Is it like… a ten point scale? If the story really sucks it gets a 'blech', if it's somewhat decent it gets a 'meh' and if it's absolutely, fantastically wonderful (like mine, of course) it gets an 'excellent'? This adds whole new mathematical equations to the receiving of reviews from you. You're making my brain hurt!

**bobmcbobbob1**: You said 'loverly'. You get a gold star! You threatened me. You get a kick in the teeth!

**Contraltissimo**: Let's count here… The only females in the story are Sarah (who can't be a MarySue because she's not an OC. She's just a Super-Sarah, which is almost worse), Fifi (who can't be a MarySue because she doesn't get Jareth at the end. She's just the infinitely perfect (but not _quite_ as perfect as Super-Sarah) best friend, which is almost worse), the tv interviewer lady (who can't be a MarySue because she's old and needs Botox, which is way worse), and me (who can't be a MarySue because I'm just really that perfect). So there. No MarySues at all!

Nothing Tra La La

Danika Lareyna

Chapter Four

Sarah has a _Very_ Bad Day

"Danika?"

"Hi! Marti! Are you busy?"

"Danika, what the heck is the matter with you? You _know_ I'm at work. You _know_ I told you not to call me at work. I was in a meeting! There was my boss, all, "Blah, blah, blah," and then he's interrupted by _David Bowie_ singing _Changes_!"

"Yeah... That's the best ringtone... So listen, I have a question for you."

"_Danika_, are you listening to a word I'm saying? Replacing all of the light switches here at work with those 'special' Jareth ones may not have gotten me fired- but this definitely will. I'm out of a job! My children will starve!"

"Chill, Marti. You don't have any children and they won't fire you. You're slowly converting them all into Bowie fans anyway. So, about my question?"

"Fine. Geez. What is it?"

"What's that word? You know, the word for when someone shows up in something and it's not like they actually show up for a reason, they're just there to sort of... be there?"

"A cameo?"

"Yes! That's it! Thanks!"

_click_

xXx

Things were going swimmingly for Jareth. His first album, "Worship Me, You Pitiful Mortals," was at the top of all the charts, even in those countries where it had been deemed offensive, vulgar and sacrilegious (which was pretty much everywhere). His second single, "I'm Too Sexy for my Tight Pants," had record-setting sales. In fact the only song which had ever made even near as much money was "Nothing Tra La La." Jareth was more famous than Santa Claus and Mickey Mouse combined, and he had only been Aboveground a week.

And yet, something still seemed to be missing from his life. He could not, for the immortal life of him, figure out what it might be. Of course _we_ know that it was the deep, undying and smoldering love in his heart, but he still had not realized it. And so he decided to pay a visit to Sarah and ask her about it. After all, she was a mortal. She knew all about those 'feelings' things.

As it happened, Sarah was in her fourth period math class when Jareth decided to drop by and was taking a major test, which encompassed 94 of her grade for the entire year. Sure, she was supposed to have graduated with all of her friends last year, but she had missed too much school when they took her to the psychiatric ward for a number of months following her time in the Labyrinth. Judging by the test in front of her, it looked as if she was going to be held back yet again. She did not know what the answer to question three was, but somehow she did not think that the solution at which she had arrived ('beefsteak') was correct.

Suddenly, the door to the math room slammed open. Everyone's heads snapped up in time to see Jareth sweep through the door, looking as dashing as ever. Every girl in the room (except Sarah) sighed longingly. Most of the boys in the room did too, but they all denied it afterwards (all but Gary, who was inspired by that event to come out of the closet- he went on to become one of the best loved drag queens in Vegas, host his own talk show and support gay rights up until his tragic death at the age of 32 in a hot air balloon accident). The teacher, Mrs. Bumblefink, gave a girlish squeal.

"I've come," Jareth said, with a roguish smile, "for Sarah."

Despite having a week to think on it, Sarah had yet to come up with a brilliant plan to off Jareth. He was so tantalizingly close, but she knew that she would have to stall him. "Can't you see I'm in the middle of math class?" she demanded, glowering fiercely.

"Are you crazy?" squawked old Mrs. Bumblefink. "That's Jareth Thegoblinking. You're excused for the rest of the day!"

Sarah gaped at her teacher. "But... what about the test that's worth 94 of my grade?" she asked.

"Automatic A+!" Mrs. Bumblefink gave Jareth a wink, which he deemed not to notice. Probably because Mrs. Bumblefink was perhaps _the_ creepiest old woman on the face of the planet.

"A+?" Jareth said, leaning casually against the doorframe. "A+, Tra La La?"

Somewhat in shock (both at the situation and Jareth's completely random comment), Sarah packed up her backpack and followed a still grinning Jareth out the door. Everyone in the room glared after her and so the "We Hate Sarah Williams" Club was founded.

xXx

And now, just for you, I have the lyrics to Jareth's number one hit single, Nothing Tra La La! (As written by the disgustingly talented MartiOwlsten)

_To the tune of Moonage Daydream by David Bowie_

You're a maze escaper

Runnin' way from me is all that you do

But maybe later

You'll realize that it's hopeless, it's true

And I'll tell you what

Just listen to me babe and you'll find

And I've made sure all your escape routes are shut

You think you've got all you need, babe

You have money, things and friends

But that's nothin' compared to my love

Without me, you've got nothing tra-la-laaaaaa!

Feel that achin', maybe

What you need most is me

I am the only one with

Magic enough to set you free

Face it, baby

Oh what a love we'll share

I'll run my fingers through your hair

You think you've got all you need, babe

You have money, things and friends

But that's nothin' next to my love

Without me, you've got nothing tra-la-laaaaaa!

xXx

**Shameless Other-Person-Promotion**

Hey! Now go read Marti's absolutely fantastic fanfic The Goblin King & I. Don't let the fact that it's not Sarah fool you, this is one of the _best_ fics out there.

http://www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/2955384/1/

xXx

**Final Note**

Nothing Tra La La is going on a short vacation. It won tickets to the Bahamas. It _could_ have invited me along, but no. It's taking that skanky toaster instead. Bitch. Nothing Tra La La will resume it's daily updates after the holidays.

…provided I remember.


	6. Rainbows of Green

Disclaimer: I do not own TacoBell, but I could really go for a Chalupa right now…

**turtlerad17**: Takes one to know one! Oooh, I did _not_ just call you a Mary Sue! _Burn!_

**bobmcbobbob1**: A spiffy holiday? _A spiffy holiday_?! I spent my 'holiday' puttering around the big, empty house, cleaning up this fic's mess while it gallivanted off with that toast ho. Oh yeah. Very _spiffy_.

**notwritten**: _Sigh_. You express so very much in so few words. Yes, yes I _do_ love you too!

**Shelli**: Somehow I don't see Jareth ever forgiving me enough to help me with school...

**Nation Jones**: So totally not my fault. Blame Marti. Or better yet, blame Jareth and the Sunshine Muffins.

**Artoveli**: I hate to tell you this, Arty, but I'm not laughing with you. I'm laughing at you. Ha ha ha ha ha!

**Anij**: Never let there be any doubt in your mind that the world stops for me. And as to "The Christmas Story"... They _totally_ ripped me off. Seriously.

**MartiOwlsten**: Sorry to burst your bubble, but no. You're not special. You're a dork. Also, please keep your lung-bits to yourself. Please?

**Miharu Kiwashi**: You're psychotic. You know that the little people on the tv can't hear you, right?

**Yami Moon**: This is not a very good fic. It's just spoiled. Spoiled rotten.

**Kute Anime Kitty**: Oh ye of little faith!! All of my fanfics are pure and unadulterated genius. You best be respectin' or I'll have to come after you, and I'll bring ol' Betsy- just for good measure.

**Nothing Tra La La**

Danika Lareyna

Chapter Five

Rainbows of Green

Jareth, the _real_ Jareth and not the idiotic farce from Danika's story, clenched his hand and the crystal within shattered. And you always thought the gloves had some sort of deep, secret meaning. Nope, they were just to protect his hands against glass shards. He tossed the broken orb over his shoulder and the jagged bits of glass landed in a pile with the other 14 crystals he had shattered in the last hour and a half. The story that woman was writing now was perhaps the worst yet. She had dethroned him, for the love of 80s pop music! With a wicked gleam in his eyes, Jareth began plotting the ultimate revenge.

Elsewhere, blissfully ignorant to the fact that she was royally pissing of a royal, Danika continued her inane tale...

xXx

It is very difficult to maintain the necessary amount of anger to murder someone after they have saved you from having to endure another torturous year of high school. As such, Sarah was rather at a loss for what to say to the handsome ex-king as they faced each other in the hallway. It did not help that he seemed more interested in the colorful pictures on the wall (provided by the "We Love Rainbows" Club) than in her. "Erm," she said, trying to draw his attention, "What did you want to see me about?"

"Nothing, really," Jareth replied, gazing intently at a particularly interesting rainbow, which seemed to have been composed entirely of the color green- if that was possible. "It just seemed like the thing to do."

"Oh... Well then... Do you wanna go get some tacos or something and talk?"

Jareth tore his eyes from the green monstrosity and gazed at Sarah. With a little smirk, he said, "Tacos? Tacos, Tra La La?"

Sarah blinked, wondering if perhaps Jareth had recently suffered some form of traumatic brain damage. "Um... yes," she said, at last.

"Smashing," Jareth said and the two figures suddenly faded from the school hallway in a burst of sparkles.

A moment later, they reappeared in the hallway in a burst of sparkles. "Right," Jareth said, looking only slightly flustered. "What are tacos and where do we get them?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Come on, my car is parked outside. I'll take you to TacoBell." She grabbed his hand, intent on pulling him along after her, but the moment they touched it was as if a pleasant jolt of electricity shot through the both of them. They stared at each other in shock for a moment, both wondering if maybe, just maybe, they were madly in love with each other. Then they both dismissed it and headed towards the car, the incident completely erased from their minds.

"Do you use your magic like that all the time?" Sarah asked, as she led the ex-monarch to her new H3 Hummer, which was painted a striking, cotton-candy pink with the word 'Princess' written across the hood in loopy, purple letters. Jareth was quite taken with the thing and intended to order one for himself as soon as they had finished with their tacos things (of course, his would say 'Sexy Beast' instead of 'Princess', but he would keep the color scheme).

"Of course I do," Jareth replied, buckling himself into the white tiger striped, faux-fur covered seat. "You don't _really_ expect me to walk everywhere, do you?"

Sarah started up the vehicle and immediately backed over a small Volkswagen Beetle, having accidentally put it into reverse rather than drive. Blushing slightly and hoping that no one had noticed, she pulled out of the parking lot and into traffic (narrowly missing a crossing guard and the six cherubic preschoolers she was escorting across the street.) "Don't people notice? I mean… don't they freak out seeing you using magic?"

Jareth was fiddling with the radio knobs (much to Sarah's annoyance) until he came across a station playing, "I'm Too Sexy for my Tight Pants." You could always find a radio station playing one of his songs. Satisfied, he leaned back, his toe tapping out the beat against her dashboard. "Well," he said, "They _would_ freak out, but I am devilishly sneaky about it's use." She glanced over at him with a slightly skeptical look on her face. He shrugged, "That and they're usually so overawed simply to be in my presence that they don't tend to notice anything… at all."

"Ah, that makes sense," Sarah said, nodding congenially. Then they both fell silent as they rode down the street, "I'm Too Sexy for my Tight Pants" blasting from the speakers.

xXx

**Shameless Self-Promotion**

Hey you! Have you read "Muck"?

Well go read it!

http://www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/3196539/1/

(And please ignore the fact that it hasn't been updated in a month)

xXx

So my stupid, ungrateful fic has _finally_ returned from the Bahamas. Check out that tan.

Disgusting.


	7. Tacos or Something Very Like Them

Disclaimer: I do not own Mountain Dew or SpongeBob SquarePants.

**musicalexpert**: You are kind and dear beyond words.

**MartiOwlsten**: You are a complete loon. Lucky dog. And maybe they live somewhere without decent taco places. Like Montana. Not that I'd know anything about Montana.

**notwritten**: Really, my sweet. You'll make the other fanfic authors jealous. -bats eyelashes-

**Kute Anime Kitty**: Turkeys, eh? You wouldn't happen to know anything about _purple_ turkeys, would you? See... there was this time... and everyone says I was hallucinating after three straight days of driving... but I swear, they were purple!!

**Miharu Kawashi**: I'm sure that the computer screen, at least, appreciates not being screamed at. As do the people around you. You know. The ones that are backing slowly away and reaching for their cellphones to call the nice men in white coats.

**Loviatar**: You're ever so welcome. Please be considerate and squeegee the brain-fragments off of your computer screen. Thank you!

Nothing Tra La La

Danika Lareyna

Chapter Six

Tacos or Something Very Like Them

Danika massaged her temples. She had a headache. A very _bad_ headache. It had come out of nowhere and hit her smack-dab between the eyes. Moaning piteously (and being ignored by everyone within hearing range), Danika decided that the only thing she could do to make herself feel better was put Jareth and Sarah through some fiendish torture. Chuckling malevolently, Danika reached for her laptop…

xXx

"Oh… my… _GOD_! Are you really Jareth Thegoblinking? _The_ Jareth Thegoblinking? You are like… so cool… so hot… I just… I can't breath! I think you're just the absolute best musician in the whole world and the most gorgeous person ever and… oh my god! Can I bear your adorable, pointy-eared babies?"

Jareth leaned towards Sarah and whispered, "Chicks dig the pointy ears." Sarah rolled her eyes.

The young woman, who was running the cash machine at TacoBell, seemed to have recovered her breath and was on the verge of another loud, high-pitched exclamation. In an effort to avoid this rather painful event, Jareth leaned towards her and gave her a grin. His ploy worked, though it looked as if she may have swallowed her tongue. Oh well, she seemed happy about it.

In his smoothest voice (and you _know_ that is smooth), Jareth said, "I'm sorry, my dear. I am afraid I am just not ready to father a litter of adorable, pointy-eared babies. Perhaps I can console you with an autograph, instead?" Seemingly from nowhere, Jareth whipped out a full color glossy of his face and a sparkly, purple pen. He quickly scrawled, _To You, From Jareth Thegoblinking._ He handed it over to the girl, whose salivation glands seemed to be working in overtime, and headed for a seat. As he passed her, he hissed in Sarah's ear, "Just order me whatever."

When Sarah met Jareth at the table he had chosen (tucked away in the back corner of the restaurant), she smirked, "Fame and fortune getting to you already?"

He gave her a rather sour look, "It has its benefits, however I had rather hoped that the groveling minions here would be at least _slightly_ more intelligent than the ones I left behind."

Sarah plopped the tray on the table and began doling out their meals. This took a while, as she had ordered five meal deals for herself, as well as three of everything on the extra value menu. Jareth got a kids meal and a Mountain Dew. At first he was upset, but once he found his SpongeBob SquarePants toy, he was quite content.

"So," Sarah said, taking a large, messy bite of a large, messy burrito. "Why did you come to the Aboveground in the first place?"

It took the ex-Goblin King a moment to answer, as he was transfixed with horror at Sarah's atrocious table manners. When at last he was able to formulate words, he replied, "I got sick of the goblins. Thought I'd try a bit of something new. Can't say as you humans have much to offer. I may have to end up destroying the lot of you."

Sarah paled a bit, but tried to act nonchalant. "Well," she said, spitting a dribble of sour cream on Jareth's shirt, "Don't do anything hasty." Jareth cringed and dived for the napkins. Sarah did not seem to notice and continued spewing bits at him. "We may not be great but we're better than... erm... howler monkeys."

Jareth arched a pale brow. "Howler monkeys? Howler monkeys, tra la la?"

Sarah winced. "Ok," she said, setting down her quesadilla and meeting Jareth's gaze directly, "I have to ask. What's up with all the tra la las? I mean, I like the song and all, but..."

The ex-Goblin King looked highly offended. "I should think it would be obvious," he said, lifting his nose. "It is my catch phrase."

The young woman blinked, certain that she had misheard. "Catch phrase?" she asked.

He nodded, his floofy hair bouncing. "Indeed. Similar to the way Robin would always say, 'Holy Whatever-is-relevant-at-the-moment, Batman!'. I say, 'Whatever-is-relevant-at-the-moment, tra la la?'. It is quite catchy, if I do say so myself." Jareth gave Sarah a condescending look. "Do you understand now?"

Sarah stared at Jareth for a moment, her mouth hanging slightly open, as she tried to come up with a response. Suddenly, an image of Jareth popped into her mind. He was sprawled across his throne with a crystal in his hand. Within the crystal, he watched Adam West flounce about in a cape and tights. Vaguely, she wondered if Jareth had taken fashion advice from the old television show.

Sarah immediately laughed and snorted guacamole out of her nose.

It was _not_ a pretty picture.

...especially the gob that ended up on Jareth's cheek.

Jareth turned a rather fetching shade of purple and made a mad dash for the restroom. This gave Sarah time to collect herself (and eat three softshell tacos). She decided that, when Jareth returned, it would be better for everyone involved if she dropped the subject of his 'catch phrase'. Come to think of it, she should probably try to ignore it should he say it again.

You see, a strange thing was happening to Sarah. While she had not yet realized that she was madly in love with him, she had come to the startling realization that she did not want to murder him in the most gruesome, painful fashion imaginable. At least, not until after lunch.

It was not much, but it was a step in the right direction.

xXx

**Shameless Self-Promotion**

Six? _Six reviews?!_

You should be ashamed of yourselves.

Really now.

Where's the love?


	8. A Stunning etc, etc Realization

Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon, My Little Pony, or a kitten.

**KK**: When you hear all of the cool kids saying, "Whatever-is-relevant-at-the-moment, tra la la?", then you will know that my master plan is well underway and soon the human race shall be enslaved to me!

**notwritten**: You always say the most romantic things. Yes! Yes, I _will_ go steady with you!

**Nation Jones**: Well, she may be on the right track... but he's got nose-guacomole on his cheek. Not very romance inducing.

**Nothing Tra La La**

Danika Lareyna

Chapter Seven

A Stunning, Horrifying and Amazing Realization

Danika glanced at the clock. "Holy dancing moo-cows!" she exclaimed. "I've got to post the next chapter of _Nothing Tra La La _in... two minutes and forty-eight seconds!" Somehow she had lost track of the time. Certainly it had nothing to do with the birthday present she had just recieved. Of course she had not neglected her beloved readers to play with her brand new, shiny Wacom Tablet. She had most definitely not spent the last nine hours straight doodling pictures of Jareth, Sailor Moon, Jareth, My Little Ponies, kitties and Jareth.

She quickly banged out a half-assed exucse for a chapter, neglecting to check spelling, grammar or even plot continuity. She knew that her readers would not mind.

All her writing was pretty much nonsensical, anyway.

xXx

The rest of the meal passed in relative silence as Sarah slopped her way through another two trays full of food and Jareth attempted to maintain as much distance between himself and his companion as possible. When she had finally polished off a half-dozen caramel empanadas and daintily wiped her lips, Sarah asked, "So... now what?"

Jareth contemplated this question for a moment.

He had left the Underground because of an inexplicable feeling of emptiness and discontent. When his new career and life Aboveground failed to fill that nameless void, he had sought Sarah out, hoping that she could help him discover the problem. They had barely spoken to each other and yet, somehow, in the short time since the young woman had reentered his life, Jareth felt his old self coming back. No, it went beyond his old self. He felt fulfilled in a way he had not known in the previous seven trillion years of his life. He felt as if the world were at peace and everything was as it should be.

Of course, he could only draw one conclusion from this stunning new sensation. It was a conclusion which both thrilled and frightened him. It opened up new possiblities that the immortal had never really considered before. It made him feel as if he were a part of something greater than just himself. It made Jareth, ex-King of the Goblins, feel small and nearly overwhelmed.

Awestruck, Jareth whispered, "Tacos."

Sarah blinked. "We just _ate_ tacos."

He focused on her, his eyes wide. Slowly, a radiant smile spread across his face. Sarah felt her heart flutter. "Tacos," he repeated. Leaping to his feet, Jareth threw back his head and exclaimed, "Tacos! Tacos are the answer to it all! _Tacos are the meaning of life!!_"

Sarah smirked, "Tacos, tra la la?"

The euphoric look faded from Jareth's expression and he glowered down at her. "First off," he said, curtly, "It is _my_ catch phrase and you are not allowed you use it. And secondly," he planted his knuckles on the plastic table and leaned down to stare menacingly into her eyes, "Do _not_ mock the tacos."

She blinked, taken rather aback at the fire in his eyes. Tilting her head a bit, she said, "But... they're just tacos."

Jareth straightened with a snort. He crossed his arms at looked away from her, a superior smirk on his lips. "Foolish of me," he said, "I should not expect a mere mortal to grasp the significance. You are little better than goblins after all."

Sarah's spine stiffened and old hostilities flared at the tone of his voice. It was just to similar to when he had said, "You're no match for me, Sarah." Homocidal tendencies returned in full force and she leapt to her feet. "Excuse me?" she said, "If you're so perfect then why did this _mere mortal_ kick your high and mighty butt at your own game? Huh? Tell me why that is, huh? Huh?"

He crossed his arms, drawing himself up regally. "How dare you speak to me in such a tone?" he replied. "Have you forgotten who you're talking to? I am-" He cut off and silently cursed himself. Only now did it occur to him that 'a rockstar' sounded a bit less impressive than 'the King of the Goblins'. Sarah noticed his hesitation and used it to her full advantage.

She batted her eyes and made her voice very high and sweet, "You're what, Jareth? Who _are_ you now that you've given up your throne? Do you even know?"

Her comments struck a bit too close to home. Had he not been wondering exactly the same thing? Even when he _was_ the Goblin King? Part of Jareth wanted to weep like a little girl and ask for a hug. Unfortunately, a much larger part of him wanted to smite the girl where she stood.

So he did.

Ten minutes of gloating later, Jareth stared at the charred smudge on the floor, which had once been Sarah Williams. Everyone else in Taco Bell had run screaming when a bolt of black lightning had pierced a hole in the roof and struck down one of the customers. This was probably a good thing, as his maniacal chuckling of a moment earlier would certainly have cleared them out on its own. But now, much to his concern, he was feeling a little tingle of what could only be labled guilt.

With a resigned sigh, he reordered time.

"Do you even know?" Sarah continued, completely unaware that she had spent the last ten minutes as a pile of ash.

His emotions in turmoil, Jareth responded with a crisp, "You know nothing of the matter."

Confused by this new manner of warfare, Sarah lashed out. "I know enough to know that I _hate_ you!" Then, in true teenaged-girl fashion, she slapped him full across the face and stormed out of Taco Bell. Jareth stared after her for half a moment, his gloved fingers playing over the angry, red mark on his face, before he disappeared in a flash.

The cashier collected all of the wrappers and trays, which had been left strewn across three different tables, and sold them all on EBay as Jareth Thegoblinking souveniers. She made a tidy sum of money, which she blew on a life-sized replica of Jareth's head, made entirely from duct-tape.

xXx

That night Jareth and Sarah lay in seperate beds, on opposite sides of the country, but their thoughts were nearly identical. Both were seething, reliving the events of the day, and plotting the perfect, painful revenge on each other. Then, almost at the same moment, both came to the stunning, horrifying and amazing realization that they were madly in love with their worst enemy.

xXx

**Shameless Self-Promotion**

Ok. When a story gets approximately the same amount of hits but _a third_ as many reviews as it was receiving, a girl starts to worry. She starts to think maybe she's doing something wrong. She starts to think maybe the story sucks. She starts to think maybe she should quit writing it altogether. She starts to think maybe the whole world hates her and she should just jump off a bridge.

-sob-


	9. Whiny, Emo, Angsty Crap

Disclaimer: I do not own Haagen-Daz

**Nation Jones**: Yes. I had to wait 8 chapters to... build dramatic tension. Yeah. That's it. Definitely has _nothing _to do with a sadistic need to play with my characters' heads.

**WhiteInfinity21**: I think, my self-righteous little buttercup, that you missed the fact that this story is a parody. All aspects of this story are meant to be parodic. My review responses? Parody. My chapter titles and disclaimers? Parody. My author's notes? You guessed it, parody.

Plus, it made you review so _HA!_

**Salsagirl626**: I swear, all of you readers are twisted. Whenever even the thought of Jareth causing bodily harm to another comes up, you're thrilled. It's a little disturbing.

**Notwritten**: Oh my love, your words are poetry. Tell me more! Speak your sweet nothings into my ear!

**MartiOwlsten**: The tacos mock you right back, Dork.

**InuLvr7**: I will not jump off a bridge. Should you cruel reviewers ever drive me to suicide I will find a _much_ more interesting way to kill myself. Like... death by slinkies.

**Miharu Kawashi**: The banging on the head with the wooden paddle needs to be directed at those that do _not_ review, not those who do. Although it _does_ help the master plan, so feel free to keep it up on yourself, just for my own amusement.

**darkbangle**: I have a wooden paddle with your name on it. Actually, I don't. But I'll steal **Miharu Kawashi**'s and write your name on it. Bad non-reviewer! Bad!

**Kute Anime Kitty**: Yes, Jareth is old. But, as stated in Chapter One, it doesn't matter if he's seven trillion years older than her, as long as she's legally of age in the United States.

**musicalexpert**: If you insist.

**DemonicSymphony**: Has anyone ever told you that you have a really creepy laugh? No? That's probably because you sound like a little girl when you laugh. Ha!

**Anij**: Tacos _are_ the meaning of life. Look the word 'taco' up in the dictionary. It says, 'taco _n. _The meaning of life.

**The Goblin Empress**: Oh my gosh. You're that chicken with the black splotch on the wing, aren't you? The one Jareth left in charge of the goblins? Wow. You have my pity.

**Shelli**: Much as I hate to admit that I have a compassionate bone in my body, I _do_ sympathize with exams. On the other hand, I think that my _fabulous _and _amazing_ stories are _totally_ worth getting a D- over.

**turkey**: You are quite astute.

**Nothing Tra La La**

Danika Lareyna

Chapter Eight

Whiny, Emo, Angsty Crap

Danika decided to play it cool. She would be nonchalant. There would be no elaborate apologies. She would not even _mention_ the fact that she had not updated in _months_. Maybe nobody would notice. Better yet, maybe Danika had fallen into some sort of crazy time warp and while she had been plagued with writer's block for ages, it had only been a couple hours for the rest of the world. That was the ticket. Yay for space-time paradoxes!

xXx

Sarah was in the depths of despair.

Even the three cartons of Haagen-Daz had not helped. All she could concentrate on was the pulsing, agonizing emptiness in her soul. The emptiness she had not even realized was there until twenty minutes ago. The emptiness which could only be filled by Jareth, that dratted fink who could not even stand her presence.

She wanted to scratch his gorgeous eyes out. She wanted to beat his head against a brick wall. She wanted to kick him right in the tight pants. She wanted to twine her arms around his neck, bury her hands in his hair and kiss him breathless.

With a little screech of frustration, Sarah went out to find more ice cream.

xXx

Jareth was in the depths of despair.

Even the six bottles of fine, aged wine he had guzzled had not helped. He was still sober enough to be painfully aware of the bone-deep longing, which had plagued him since he had come to that horrible, amazing realization. A longing for a woman with hair like waves of midnight, lips strawberries at the height of ripeness, and eyes that sparkled- sparkled with hatred whenever they looked at _him._

Plus, his cheek still hurt from where that little vixen had slapped him. No one laid a finger on his royal personage; no one dared! She was just so infuriating. She was so uncouth. She was so spoiled. She was so... a goofy grin lit on Jareth's lips. She was so _spunky_.

He blinked, suddenly becoming aware of the moronic look on his face and its cause. With an irate growl, Jareth went out to buy some good, hard booze.

Amazingly enough, even though they were in search of completely different items, were in utterly different financial classes, and lived absolutely nowhere near each other; Jareth and Sarah happened to go to the exact same grocery store.

xXx

**Shameless Self-Promotion**

_aka An Experiment in Reverse Psychology_

I suck and do not deserve your love and admiration.

Shun my writing!

Shun my art!

Shun ME!!

xXx

PS- Holy Brain-dead Siamese Cats Yacking on the Carpet! The review responses are like three times longer than the chapter itself! This, my friends, is what joy feels like. I do feel the need to point out that these chapters are kept disgustingly short on purpose. Two reasons, really. The first is because this is a parody of trends in Labyfic, one of which is shorter and shorter chapter lengths. The second is that I just really like screwing with ya'll.


	10. All Alone in the Produce Aisle

Disclaimer: I have already disavowed any ownership of David Bowie (and wept piteously, if you will recall). I also do not own Mick Jagger. This one doesn't bother me so much. I also don't own Bubblicious Gum. Bet you thought I did, though, huh?

**KnightofWolfLord**: -glower- You no longer get Virginia. You can keep Michigan. Why anyone would want it, though...

**Anij**: Obviously your dictionary is broken. Next, look up the word 'gullible'. If your picture isn't there then we know there's something wrong.

Also, you are far too concerned about the spelling of a word that is not even a real word.

**notwritten**: Just what is that supposed to mean? I can't _believe_ you would say something like that to me!

**NationJones**: I have so much pity for your boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Or whatever.

**turtlerad17**: What's a nice, intelligent young turtle like you doing hanging around the slimy dive anyway? You're obviously the only one around here with any taste.

**Aurora Satine**: Ooh, has the evil mastermind finally found a worthy apprentice? This has potential...

Mwahaha!

**VampireApple**: Pitchforks are useless against me because I have immunity to piercing weapons. Unless, of course, you decided to bludgeon me over the head with said pitchfork. If that is the case, feel free to continue your threatening.

**DemonicSymphony**: I hate to tell you this, Pudding-Pop, but it will take a lot more than the likes of you to damn _me_.

Mwahaha!

**MartiOwlsten**: Yes, you made 100. You must be very proud. It only took _how much_ prodding? And are you insulting my reviewers? Listen up, Cupcake, only _I_ am allowed to insult my reviewers, so back off!

Also, you up for some nice dental work tonight? Your teeth look like they could use a good cleaning.

Mwahahahahaha-gasp-hahahahaha!

**Nothing Tra La La**

Danika Lareyna

Chapter Nine

_All Alone in the Produce Aisle_

Danika was feeling low on inspiration. She blamed this solely on cruel, heartless readers who did not review her delightfully charming story. Mostly she did this because every once in a while someone would emerge from the shadows to argue about what a ridiculous accusation it was, and Danika always enjoyed a good squabble.

Unfortunately, Danika's most trusted (and perverted, though she hid it well) cohort, Marti, had threatened death by sponge cake if she did not update in the next 24 hours. A tingle of dread danced its way down Danika's spine. When it came to sponge cake, Marti did not jest.

Her lovable (if perverted) cohort had suggested that, to inspire creativity, Danika watch the 'Dance Magic' scene, envisioning new ways to ridicule the oh-so-sexy and oh-so-bouncy Goblin King. Danika had promptly shunned this idea, deeming it far too _common_ for her. If she were to draw inspiration from a singing, dancing Goblin King, she would do it her way.

And so it was that Danika spent the next 23 3/4 hours painstakingly photo-manipulating each scene from the wonderfully horrible music video of David Bowie and Mick Jagger singing 'Dancing in the Streets'. In each frame she added a nice floof to Bowie's hair, a bit of color around the eyes, and a bit of pizzazz to the already relatively flamboyant outfit. Jagger she just covered over with that 'Peanut Butter Jelly Time' banana. Because... come on, who cares, right?

Sleep deprived and more loopy than even her usual insane standards, Danika watched the video. A feeling of triumph blossomed in her chest, especially at the bit where 'Jareth' bopped buns with the banana and his fluff-mullet swayed in a most realistic manner.

Then Danika realized she only had 15 minutes to post a chapter before the sponge cake came for her with murder on its spongy mind. So, once again, she spewed out whatever random crap popped into her mind and hoped her readers would not notice.

They never did.

xXx

"The problem with being desperately in unrequited love with the most famous person in the world," Sarah mused to herself as she pushed her squeaky cart down the freezer aisle of Grandma Gretel's Groovy Grocery, "Is that his face is bloody _everywhere!_" The last word came in a bit of a shriek as Sarah had lost the ability for internal monologue at a very young age (a tragic accident involving a bowling ball polisher, it is really best not to mention it and stir bad memories). Fortunately, no one was near her to be startled. Her incessant mutterings had assured that they gave her a wide berth long ago. Now her fellow shoppers avoided whatever aisle she was in like a sweet, innocent baby kitten avoids a large, ferocious, salivating dog, which had not eaten in three days and had a thorn in its paw- making it extra cranky.

She had already loaded her cart down with gallons of chocolate, butter pecan and pistachio frozen goodness. Now she was simply perusing the shelves to see if there was anything else that struck her fancy. Unfortunately, this little shopping adventure had not turned into the escape she had hoped it would be. Jareth seemed to be watching her, everywhere she went.

There he was, grinning seductively at her from a box of instant oatmeal. A bit further along, he glowered at her from a tin of lemon flavored prunes. There he was again, staring up at her enticingly from a carton of buttermilk. And again, smirking on a package of dental floss. The bloody man was _everywhere_. And, Sarah thought, spying a life-sized cardboard cutout of him advertising adult diapers, he had a _really_ horrible agent.

Giving it up as hopeless, and noticing that she was leaving a little trail of sugary slush everywhere she went, as her ice cream was badly melting, Sarah gave a resigned sigh and headed towards the checkout aisle.

Things were even worse there. From the cover of every magazine he glared at her, his eyes mocking her, breaking her heart and grinding it under his shiny, leather boots. In each picture he seemed to be staring directly at her, or through her, even as the rest of him wailed on his electric mandolin, schmoozed with other celebrities, or had an illegitimate offspring with Big Foot. Despite her aching soul, Sarah was rather amused at that last one and supposed that, if any celebrity in the world today were to conceive with a Sasquatch, it would be Jareth.

Sarah's eyes darted from image to image. How could she go on? Her heart beat for nothing but Jareth, and yet each image seemed to stare at her more cruelly than the last. Especially that one on the top. The one with the tousled hair (how could she tell?), which was swaying a little as if slightly tipsy.

Oh wait. That was not a magazine.

Sarah's stomach dropped down to her toes, curled into a fetal position and whimpered. With a squeak in her voice that almost exactly matched the squeak in her shopping cart's wheel, Sarah stammered, "Oh, hello Jareth," to the man glowering at her over the Bubblicious Gum.

xXx

**Shameless Self-Promotion**

Ah, who am I kidding. I need no self-promotion. I am wonderful and fantastic and lovable just the way I am.

...I am lying through my teeth.

I crave your acceptance!

_Looooooove meeeeeeee!!!_


	11. Under the Influence

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Possessions are fleeting. We must expand our minds beyond the need for worldly things.

**Anij**: Any agent who tells you that producing giant billboards of yourself advertising adult diapers is a good idea needs his head checked. You, for agreeing with said agent, also need your head checked. Congratulations.

**PyroSlytherin**: Yes, yes indeed I am one of the funniest people on the planet. Unfortunately, it is the planet Uranus, so that's not saying much.

**yodeladyhoo**: Terribly sorry, but that video has gone into my vaults. No eyes but my own shall ever see the gloriousness that is Jareth dancing with a badly animated banana.

**Avalon's mists**: I'm not sure Jareth's face on a fly would be considered advertising so much as a science project gone horribly, horribly wrong. Of course if I _did_ find a fly with Jareth's face on it, I most certainly would _not_ squish it. It would be, after all, the prettiest of all the flies.

**notwritten**: Are you breaking up with me? I can't... This is just... You're so cold! How can you be so cold!! sob

**WhiteInfinity21**: A well kept secret to my writing style is that most of it is done while I'm sleep deprived. Don't tell anyone.

**Nation Jones**: Well I'm too lazy to send this to your email address since I can't just hit 'reply', so there. Nyah. Jareth will smite you most painfully for comparing him to Gene Simmons. Even _I_ would not go that far. And yes, they did make Jareth condoms, but they did not do so well. Seems men were uncomfortable putting on a rubber with Jareth's face on it. Women, on the other hand, loved them.

**darkbangle**: You are far too eager to threaten me with your paddle. I have figured out your dark secret. In a past life, you were one of those nuns who taught Catholic School and smacked kids around with rulers.

**musicalexpert**: Sarah never gets fat because of her tape wor- I mean, because of the magic of the Labyrinth which allows her to eat any and everything. Don't you pay attention? Geez.

**MartiOwlsten**: Give it up. Everyone knows your a major pervert. I've seen to that. )

**Aurora Satine**: You will not lay your filthy, common hands on the royal personage. Let this be a warning to you. Next time, you will be flogged by a band of rabid chinchillas.

**Kat**: Your sister has much wisdom. You should listen to her more often. Except when she tells you that the Easter Bunny doesn't exist. It's not true. It's not true I tell you! _I believe!!!_

**Nothing Tra La La**

Danika Lareyna

Chapter Ten

_Under the Influence_

Jareth did not reply immediately. He merely stood in the next aisle over and glared at Sarah. Many thoughts were going through his mind at that point. Unfortunately, thanks to the massive quantities of wine he had consumed, none of them were very rational.

The first thought that came to Jareth's mind was rage that the dratted girl would _dare_ to shop at _his_ grocery store. Granted, it happened to be a block from her house, but that did not give her the right to exist there when it was inconvenient to him. At the same time it occurred to him that her hair was very shiny. He thought that it would be very nice to touch such shiny hair and that it probably smelled quite nice. But most of all, Jareth wondered when Sarah had become triplets.

It was at this point that the ex-Goblin King gave a little hiccup and passed out on the grocery store floor.

Sarah peeked around the display and into the next checkout lane. Jareth lay sprawled on his back, a tiny dribble of drool hanging from the corner of his lips and an impressive variety of alcoholic beverages scattered about his inert form. Sarah contemplated for a moment and decided that there was nothing for it. Abandoning her cart, she grabbed the rock star beneath his shoulders and hauled him out the door.

Fortunately, being a mystical being from another realm, Jareth was rather light and Sarah had very little problem physically maneuvering him into her bright pink Hummer. The only tricky bit was getting his head out of the window in time for the contents of his stomach to come hurling up in an alarming display. Sarah was quite proud of herself that she managed to avoid getting anything on either herself or her car. The elderly woman who had been walking next to her car at that unfortunate moment and ended up covered nearly head to toe in 'chunks', was slightly less enthused.

As Sarah drove home, managing to only hit three parked cars, a street sign and a garden gnome named Quigley, she cast a nervous glance at her passenger. She had rather hoped that Jareth would remain blissfully unconscious, at least until she could get him safely to her home, but he did not seem to be cooperating. His eyes opened and he glanced over at her blearily. A wide, childlike grin lit his face and, in a slurred voice, he exclaimed, "Sarrrrah! Hello, Sarah. Pretty Sarah. Soooo pretty." He waved a hand in her general direction, but missed horribly. It did not seem to phase him. Leaning towards her, he whispered loudly, "You wanna know a shecret, pretty Sarah?"

Uncomfortable as Sarah was dealing with a highly inebriated Jareth, she was not about to let an opportunity like this pass her up. "What secret?" she asked, taking her eyes off the road for a moment and therefore swerving up onto the sidewalk and saving the life of a three-legged cat who had been crossing the street.

Jareth leaned even closer. Sarah wanted to recoil at the stale smell of alcohol on his breath, but forced herself to remain still and listen. "I shink..." Jareth said, but a hiccup cut him off. He paused, seeming utterly taken aback at the phenomena that was his hiccup, but shook himself out of it and began again. "I shink that I'm in love with... with..."

Her heart seemed to clench up and, afraid to meet his eyes, Sarah prompted, "With?"

In lieu of a response, Jareth passed out once more, his head landing with a little plop in Sarah's lap.

xXx

**Shameless Self-Promotion**

Hey, did you know I have a livejournal? I rarely (if ever) update it. And when I do update it, I rarely (if ever) write about my fanfics... But what the hell, check it out anyway. My journal name is DanikaLareyna.

Exciting.

**Additional Shameless Self-Promotion**

I am looking for a beta. For details, see my profile.


	12. An Unexptected Sidetrip

Disclaimer: I do not own Dove ice cream. I do not even own A Dove ice cream, because I ate it before I finished this chapter. sniffle

**NationJones**: I 'shink' you'd best not mock the Goblin King's drunk-talk. He can whup your fanny, even when toasted.

**yodeladyhoo**: Silly girl. Already she has forgotten Jareth and the Sunshine Muffins. Jareth most certainly _is_ a rock star. And, just out of curiosity, has there been any other fanfic authors who have referred to him as a rock star simply because he was played by Bowie? That amuses me beyond words.

**InuLvr7**: ... um ... yeah. Glad you liked the story. Bu-bye then.

**Avalon's mists**: Would YOU pour cold water on the sleeping form of perhaps the most magically powerful being in the world? If you do, be warned, there may end up being a YOU-headed fly.

**Salsagirl626**: Damn you! Always with the nice, supportive reviews. Why do you make it so hard to mock you?!

**musicalexpert**: Congratulations. I have NO idea what you just said.

**WhiteInfinity21**: Evil cliffy monger? Why, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. -blush-

**darkbangle**: Nah, Jareth is one of those friendly drunks who thinks it's a good idea to get the whole bar together for a rousing rendition of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody". Of course if you sing out of tune he becomes an angry drunk and turns you into a pair of tie-dyed tube socks.

**notwritten**: Your words are like knives which slice away my tender, vulnerable soul. You have the sharpest tongue of anyone I've ever met. Please, can't you just let me wallow in misery alone?

**Anij**: Oh yeah? Well you smell like fishsticks!!

**PyroSlytherin**: Brown-noser. Fine, fine. Throw me your full support and maybe I'll make you the Chancellor of New Zealand.

**MartiOwlsten**: Actually the woman had been a nurse in the Emergency Room for 46 years and was, therefore, well accustomed to being barfed on. So there, Miss Guilt-Trip-The-Authoress.

**ladyAlyafaelyn**: TOO MANY VOWELS. You shall henceforth be known as 'Chip'. So, Chip, welcome to the insane world of Danika. This world is much preferable to Middle Earth only in that once I control this world I will be able to horde all of the worlds gummi bears. Go on and play with your pretty, pretty elves. _I'll _have gummi bears.

**Nothing Tra La La**

Danika Lareyna

Chapter Eleven

An Unexpected Sidetrack

It is a little known fact that evil geniuses are highly susceptible to ice cream. Danika had been cheerfully sucking on a Dove ice cream bar when her muse had forcefully suggested that _maybe_ it was time to update Nothing Tra La La. The evil authoress had cheerfully agreed.

Ten minutes later, the ice cream was gone and Danika was left chewing the stick to shreds and wondering what the _heck_ was going to happen next to Jareth and Sarah. Little did she know that, once again, the bloody characters would take matters into their own hands and go in _completely _unexpected directions.

xXx

Sarah hit the brakes causing three things to happen at once. First, the grumpy, old man who had been mere seconds from becoming a road pancake found his life spared. Moved by the near-death experience, he decided to change his life, loving his fellow man and spreading nothing but cheer in the short years he had left. With a spring in his step, he headed home. He died twenty-eight minutes later of a heart attack, which really was not that unexpected seeing as he had never eaten anything but bacon and Pop Tarts in the last six years.

Secondly, the Yield sign, which had been caught under the body of Sarah's Hummer and had been dragged along for the last five and a half blocks, came unstuck and clattered to the street. This really was not very interesting, but it _was_ caused by her slamming on the brakes, so it had to be mentioned.

Finally, Jareth flew against the dashboard. His head landed right back in Sarah's lap. Of course, this time, it had just been bashed against the steering wheel, so instead of lying peacefully it now began to bleed onto her jeans rather profusely. As they were extremely expensive jeans, Sarah decided that this must be put to a stop as soon as possible.

Poking him nervously, she hissed, "Jareth? Wake up Jareth? You're getting your blood on me. What's worse, your blood seems to be purple and clashes with my top terribly."

Jareth did not show the slightest inclination of responding to her.

Muttering under her breath about how he could never make _anything_ easy, Sarah turned her car and headed for St Maxine's Hospital.

xXx

The registration clerk, Sarah noticed idly, was rather evil looking. Shrugging the observation off as completely irrelevant to anything, she marched over to the desk. The clerk did not glance up from the doodle she was making on some patient's chart. "Can I help you?" she asked, in a bored tone.

"Um... Yes?" Sarah stammered, shifting uncomfortably. She had Jareth slung over her shoulder because the only wheelchair in the entrance had an old woman sitting in it. An old woman with very, _very_ large eyes and a raspy wheeze. Jareth's purple blood dribbled down the back of her shirt. "This is Jareth Thegoblinking. He's hurt and I think he needs to see a doctor."

The clerk's head shot up. "Did you say Jareth Thegoblinking?" Her eyes widened. "That _is_ Jareth Thegoblinking! I recognize those tight pants anywhere, and he really _is_ to sexy for them!" At this point, the registration clerk began making high-pitched noises and bouncing up and down. Fortunately, this seemed to attract the attention of one of the nurses.

The nurse strode up to Sarah in that authoritative, takes-no-bullshit way that only nurses have. She looked the girl up and down, taking in the fanny of the rock star (which was the only part of him visible from the front), and snorted. Crooking a finger, she led Sarah towards one of the curtained-off rooms. Sarah shifted her burden, feeling Jareth's head bump against her back and his hands bump against her... never mind, and followed the nurse.

xXx

"Yep," the nurse said, looking as if she was going through a great deal of effort to look sympathetic but not quite pulling it off. "I'm afraid the tests are conclusive." She looked up into Sarah's wide, worried eyes.

"He's going to _die_."

xXx

**Shameless Self-Promotion**

Oh yeah. Look at that drama. I so rock. I rock in _italics._

Go look at my DeviantArt page. And leave a comment or two, for goodness sake. I'm currently working on a really horrible mini-comic which will most likely get me thrown out of the Labyrinth fandom. Link is on my profile.

Good times.


	13. Beep Beep!

Disclaimer: I do not own... um... one of those hospital heart monitor-things. But know what I do own? _Your soul._ Bwahahahahahaha!!

**yodeladyhoo**: No, I am not Douglas Adams reincarnated. I am Augustus Hipomoony reincarnated. Unfortunately, Augustus Hipomoony was a 17th century mortician whose sense of humor was less than appreciated, especially by the grieving families who fell victim to his favorite prank wherein the body of their beloved family member sprang up like a jack-in-the-box at the end of the funeral service. SPROING! Surprise!!

**WhiteInfinity21**: Cheesy Melodrama is my middle name. Danika Cheesy Melodrama Lareyna. For some reason, I always get stopped in airports when they see that on my passport...

**Avalon's mists**: While a world without a you-headed-fly is a sad thing to comprehend, I'm afraid it's not motivation enough for Jareth to rise from the (near) dead. Sorry, you'll have to continue on as you are. Try not to be too disappointed.

**Nation Jones**: But just think of what a pretty corpse he would make! We could suck all his innards from his nostrils and put him in formaldehyde so that he would remain beautiful (and slightly green-tinted) for all time.

**FairiesMidwife**: Well... I _would_ give you a couple of whacks with the ugly stick for not reading... but your lovely bit of brown-nosing at the end has spared you. Barely.

**Anij**: Despite my intentions with the last chapter, Jareth and Sarah had their own ideas. So not my fault.

**notwritten**: I am going to have to take a short break from my insane, one-sided break up with you just because I am so _utterly_ baffled by the comment, "Jennifer Connelly Center." I mean... What the heck?!?

**MartiOwlsten**: You again?? Man, will you please stop stalking me. It's seriously creeping me out.

**SomeOneSpecial**: First of all, let me compliment you on your fabulously narcissistic choice of name. Bravo. Secondly, Jareth is always adorable. Puking, bleeding, coming after you with a chainsaw... _Always_.

**DemonicSymphony**: Please note that there is no review response to DemonicSymphony. I have already dispatched this person with my deadly tongue-laser for having the audacity to 'smack' me. Anyone else leaving reviews under this name is clearly an impersonator.

**VampireApple**: ...live happily ever after in the afterlife? Wow, that is one bloody morbid happy ending.

**ladyAlayfaelyn**: Oooh, an army of tiny, deadly gummi bears at my disposal. The idea has merit. Fine then. You shall henceforth be called Jambalaya Jane. That's certain to preserve your dignity as it is a well-known fact that elves just _love_ Jambalaya.

**Nothing Tra La La**

Danika Lareyna

Chapter Twelve

Beep Beep!

Human beings, Danika reflected, had finally learned to bottle and sell happiness. It was called 'Caramel Mocha Frappe'. She sighed blissfully, slurping noisily on the last dredges of whipped cream at the bottom of her cup, before turning back to her laptop.

The end was near. It was time to turn up the heat.

A wicked twinkle entered the eyes of the evil authoress.

xXx

Jareth Thegoblinking, former Ruler of the Underground and, for a scant two weeks, the world's most famous rock star ever. The world at large sat by their televisions, radios or (in a few obscure areas of Europe) the town crier, waiting for some word on his condition. All of them felt that they should have known such a tragedy would befall the beloved musician. After all, the brighter the star the faster they burn out, right? Plus, Jareth's fondness for picking fights with large, toothy canines, rabid tigers and angry cockatiels tended to peg him as the type to 'live hard and die young'.

They all expected and morosely accepted it. They were perfectly prepared immortalize him in their hearts and on their postage stamps.

The only person unwilling to deal with Jareth's imminent kicking of the bucket was one Sarah Williams. She sat beside his hospital bed, clutching desperately at his cold, cold hand and weeping piteously. Sure, up until two days ago she had hated him with every ounce of her being. Sure, she was fully convinced that he had no desire for her beyond that of never seeing her face again. Sure, she still had sticky, purple blood all down her front. Right now, Sarah's mind could not move beyond the thought that maybe, just maybe, if she pouted hard enough, he would miraculously be alright.

Her pout had never failed before, after all.

Now, normally one would expect a person who was dying in a hospital to be hooked up to all sorts of machines, with wires and tubes protruding from every orifice and then some. Not so for Jareth, of course. Such things were definitely unbecoming and, if he was going to die, he was going to die prettily. So Jareth's pale, beautiful form was covered with only a single sheet, his soft, golden hair spread about his sadly sunken face and his hands clasped upon his chest like a sleeping angel. A single monitor beeped in the background, marking the weakening beat of his failing heart.

"Oh Jareth!" Sarah sobbed, "Why did I never tell you?"

_"Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep."_

"I mean, I know I probably should have told you, but I didn't. And I was such a fool for not telling you!"

_"Beep... Beep... Beep... Beep..."_

"Of course, even if I had told you it probably wouldn't do any good. You definitely hate my guts- especially since I've killed you and all."

_"Beeeeep... Beeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeeep..."_

"But I didn't mean to kill you! I would never, ever hurt you! Except that time I crushed your hopes and rejected your offer of eternal love to me. And that time I slapped you across the face. But you really deserved it that time and, anyway, I wouldn't do it again. Really!"

_"Beeeeeeeeeeeep..."_

"So, like I was saying, I should have told you _before_ I killed you. Or, you know, not killed you at all, but if I had to kill you, then I shouldn't have done it without letting you know... know..."

"..."

(For my more oblivious readers, that particular ellipsis denoted silence. As in the monitor that was tracking his heartbeat had stopped. As in he was _dead_.)

Sarah sobbed, "Oh Jareth! I love you!"

Jareth opened his eyes, "You do?"

_"Beep."_

xXx

**Shameless Self-Promotion**

I have been on a bit of a one-shot spree. Go read them.

Really. You'll like them.

No, go on.

I am a genius, after all.


	14. The Climactic Conclusion

Disclaimer: I do not own McDonalds or Batman or, you know, anything worthwhile really.

**DemonicSymphony**: Isn't it nice how there's no power of internal monologue on fanfic net? -Scurries off to take out the real deal-

**yodeladyhoo**: Does it really matter? I mean, _really? _I got the point across. Everybody understood what I meant. Only the extreme OCDs even _noticed_ and, of them, only you commented on it. Sheesh, move on with your life.

**Anij**: Pfft, I don't make them do anything. If _I_ had any control, this thing would have been over six chapters ago.

**notwritten**: ...I can't stay mad at you. -teary- I love you!

**oh-you-pretty-things**: Articulate.

**Hakkai Ottaku**: Holy Caps Lock, Batman! (Or should I say, Caps Lock Tra La La?) Who do you think you are to order me around. Just for that, I'll _never _post the last chapter!!

...oh yeah. Dang.

**MartiOwlsten**: They were going to come out with Jareth postage stamps- but he wouldn't let them. They weren't big enough to show off the gloriousness that was him. Instead, he insisted they immortalize him 'With the rest of those famous blokes, what are their names?' on Mount Rushmore.

**Skyrere**: If you forget to breath and turn all blue and... dead... it's not my fault!

**Avalon's mists**: I'm sorry. I don't speak Swahili.

**clickityclackupsidethehead**: You actually prefer Jareth dead? Well that's a first. Beware the mob of fangirls that is certain to come after you for that comment. It won't be 'purty'.

**Nothing Tra La La**

Danika Lareyna

Chapter Thirteen

The Climactic Conclusion

This was it. It had finally come. The end. There was only one thing left to do.

Danika, evil authoress extraordinaire, threw back her head and cackled; a maniacal, shrieking laugh that would chill the bones.

The other customers at the McDonald's looked very uncomfortable at the clearly insane woman, giggling maliciously into her Bacon, Egg and Cheese Biscuit.

xXx

This was it. It had finally come. The end. There was only one thing left to do.

The _real_ Goblin King, tensed as he stared into his glowing crystal. Soon, he would take his revenge. At the rate the foul woman was going, there was no way she could pull herself out in time to save her hide.

Jareth indulged himself in his own low, malevolent chuckle.

Needless to say, he pulled it off _much_ better than Danika.

xXx

This was it. It had finally come. The end. There was only one thing left to do.

With a petulant frown, Jareth headed into the light. He really had not expected this, all things considered. After all, to the best of his knowledge he was _supposed_ to be practically immortal. A little bump on the head definitely should not have been able to kill him. It was, loathe though he was to admit it, not fair.

"Oh Jareth! I love you!"

Surprised, his eyes popped open and he exclaimed, "You do?"

Sarah squealed and tumbled backwards, knocking her chair over and rolling to a heap by the gray-green hospital wall. Jareth supposed that he should have been startled by this, but, in all honesty, he had grown accustomed to the girl's theatrics. He even found them rather endearing, in an annoying sort of way. At that particular moment, he was more taken aback by the fact that he had a pulse.

"Jareth!" Sarah gasped from her inelegant place on the floor, "You're alive!"

"So it would seem," he said, raising a gloved hand and examining it minutely. Considerate of the nurses to have a pair of gloves made up in the same colorless material as the hospital gown.

The young woman shakily rose to her feet and righted her chair. Her face was flaming crimson. "You heard what I said, then?" she asked, her voice soft.

He frowned, shifting his focus to her blushing face. He remembered a bright light, a lot of pent-up frustration and an angelic voice, calling to him. Suddenly, it hit him.

"Sarah," Jareth exclaimed, sitting up. Internally, he congratulated himself on accomplishing such a task so soon after dying but he pushed that thought aside as he reached out to clasp the girl's hands. "I heard you," he said, his voice going husky and intense. "Sarah, you called me back from the void. You saved my life. My precious, pulchritudinous Sarah, I love you too."

Her wide eyes sparkling with joyful tears, Sarah whispered, "Then you aren't mad at me for killing you in the first place?"

Jareth's brows drew down in confusion.

Sarah choked. "I mean... uh..." Frantically, she threw herself at him, her lips meeting his desperately. Jareth would have liked to have gone into a bit more detail about that last comment, but Sarah's weight, pressing him back into the uncomfortable hospital bed, and her warm lips crushed to his own, convinced him to let it go- for the time being. With a satisfied purr, Jareth wrapped his arms around her, holding her petite frame close.

Suddenly, the door slammed open. Sarah squealed and ended up in a pile on the floor- again.

"Jareth!" the red-headed woman exclaimed, rushing into the room, "Thank heavens you're alive!"

"Fifi!" Jareth and Sarah cried, at the same time. Startled, the two exchanged a glance.

"How do you know my best friend?" Sarah demanded, glowering furiously.

"How do _you_ know my sister?" Jareth replied, returning her glower and then some.

"_Sister?!_"

"Like, that doesn't matter," Fifi said urgently, taking Jareth's hand. Sarah felt a pang of jealousy and vaguely considered disemboweling the pretty girl, sister and best friend or not. "This is, like, way important," Fifi continued. "Jareth, you won't believe what happened!"

"What happened?" Jareth and Sarah exclaimed, at the same time.

"Um, ok. You two have to stop doing that," Fifi said, blinking wide, amethyst eyes at the both of them. Shaking her head, she got back on the subject. "You kissed your true love! That means that the curse on the Goblin Kingdom has been broken!"

Jareth frowned, "There was a curse on the Goblin Kingdom?"

Fifi nodded, "Yeah, remember? About two and a half trillion years ago you pissed off an evil sorceress by using the wrong fork at her dinner party and, in retribution, she put a curse over your entire kingdom that would remain until you kissed your true love for the first time."

"Wait a minute," Sarah exclaimed, "She put a curse on _everyone_ because he used the wrong fork?"

"Well, to be fair, he used it to stab her fiancé in the eye. The guy had mocked Jareth's tight pants."

"I do enjoy the tight pants," Jareth interjected and then, feeling as if he had been sorely neglecting his catch phrase, he tacked on a half-hearted, "Tight pants, tra la la."

Sarah rolled her eyes, but Fifi did not seem to be paying attention. Giddily, she continued, "Now all of the goblins have been transformed back into pretty, pretty elves and the monsters have returned to unicorns and sparkly pegasi, and that annoying dwarf, Hoggle, changed back into the Princess of the Happy Dancing Fairies!"

Jareth smirked, "Ah yes. Now I remember. Hedgewart was always the happiest and dancingest fairy of them all." He turned his gaze to Sarah, who finally remembered to get up off the floor. "What do you say, my love? Will you return to my perfect, beautiful, magical kingdom, to rule by my side for all time as the Goblin Queen- even though there aren't actually any goblins anymore?"

Clasping her hands to her heart, Sarah sighed, "Yes, Jareth. As long as you love me, I will follow you anywhere!"

Feeling that this called for a really dramatic, romantic moment, Jareth held his arms open to Sarah, who fell into them and they kissed passionately. Destiny had finally brought the fated lovers together. Life was, for that single moment, perfect and beautiful.

"Ew," Fifi said, "Get a room."

THE END

xXx

Jareth blinked.

The end? How could that be the end? First off, it made absolutely no sense. Secondly, the dratted writer had ended with her Jareth in a relatively positive position. He had not died. He had returned to being king. She had even made some changes to the kingdom that probably would not be all that horrible to consider. Pretty, pretty elves probably harried the chickens much less than goblins.

Frowning, Jareth cupped his chin in his hand. What to do? Part of him still wanted to make the girl play a one-person game of 'Which Cupcake is the Dynamite in?', but could he really justify it? Smacking his fist into his palm, he decided that the only option was to wait. He would let her readers decide. If they approved of the story, he would be lenient. If they, like he, felt she deserved a Bog-bath, so be it. He would give it one week and then Danika's fate would be decided.

xXx

**Shameless Self-Promotion**

You heard the man (kinda). My fate rests solely in your hands. Should Jareth dismember, disembowel and... uh... disambiguate me? (Like _that_ could ever happen) Or should he take me to his Labyrinth and make me his queen? (A girl can dream) Review and let him know. You have one week from today. If you're the type that never reviews, now is the time to crawl out from under your rock.

Oh, and by the way... Have I told you lately that I think you're very um... fragrant? And I mean that in the nicest _possible _way. -bats eyelashes-


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